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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021532">In Another Universe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium'>WhatsATerrarium</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Craziest Board Game of 1973 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wolf 359 (Radio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ballet, Dancing, F/F, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:41:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She smiled a little, watching Lovelace stumble.  <i>In another universe.<i>  “Here,” she reached out to steady Isabel.  “Now move your foot over here, and…”</i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/>    <i>“Renée?”  She hesitated.  “Did I… Ruin everything?”</i><br/>  </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/>    <i>“No,”  she looked down a little as she maneuvered herself in stiff, yet graceful motions.  “It was an observation.  And it wasn’t wrong.”</i><br/>  </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dominik Koudelka/Renée Minkowski, Doug Eiffel &amp; Renée Minkowski, Isabel Lovelace &amp; Renée Minkowski, Isabel Lovelace/Renée Minkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Craziest Board Game of 1973 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Another Universe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally posted about two years ago under the title "Another Universe".  I haven't made any edits since then, so the quality might not reflect my current writing style.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She exhaled, balancing herself against the bar.  Her feet found their way into position.  The sound of her playlist was beginning to seep out of the speakers.  She sighed a little and began warming up.  First, plie, second, plie, third, plie, fourth, plie, fifth, plie, and from the top.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had started learning when she was just a kid.  Her mother insisted she learn just like she had when she was young.  Renée had always been comforted by order.  Learning to dance fell into that pattern.  The fluid, yet organized movement.  It made her feel calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, that calm was useless when she needed it the most.  You can exactly dance ballet in zero gravity.  Deep breath.  Ready, and go.  Tchaikovsky’s ‘March of The Flowers’.  It was a classic, but it was fun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steady.  Focus on the music.  Focus on your feet.  Relax.  It took a lot not to stumble when she noticed the familiar figure watching her from the doorway.  She kept her footing, sweeping her leg up to gain the momentum for a spin.  “Need something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eiffel told me you’d be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doug</span>
  </em>
  <span> told you I would be here.  We can’t fall back into old patterns, Isabel.  We’re all friends now.  Not colleagues, friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lovelace shrugged.  “All that matters is that we’re alive.  The rest is just details.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minkowski relaxed her stance, reaching for her phone to pause the music.  “Is there something you wanted.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just bored.”  She shrugged, sitting down comfortably on the chair near the bar.  “Go ahead, don’t mind me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a kid, Renée never liked to perform for people.  When her parents tried to make her go to a recital she had barricaded herself in her room.  She wouldn’t fail in front of everyone.  Everyone thought it was stage fright.  But it didn’t go away when she wasn’t on the stage.  She was afraid of failure in every one of its forms.  Whether she was on a stage, in her room, or in a small, rented out studio in front of her friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitated, scrolling through her phone to find a new song.  Something she already had a dance for.  Something less likely to fail.  She started out slowly, in pace with the music.  Her eyes kept drifting over to Isabel, who’s watching her intently.  Why did she come here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We could have been something,” she muttered blatantly.  Minkowski froze.  On your toes may not be the best position to freeze in though.  She stumbled, falling face first.  “Renée?  Oh shit man, I’m sorry.”  Lovelace sat up, starting to head over, but Minkowski stood without help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m married, you know.”  Of course she knew.  Isabel had met Dominik.  She and Eiffel had stayed with them.  They had gotten to be friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  That’s why it’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>could have</span>
  </em>
  <span> been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right.”  She paused.  “We could have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could have been something great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a deep sigh, looking forward sternly.  “Isabel, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you teach me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-Teach you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she wandered over to the bar, tucking her hair behind her ears.  “To dance.  You’re… amazing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Right, um, thanks?  Sure.”  She paced over to her, placed her hands on the bar and cleared her throat.  “This is… This is first position.”  She watched Lovelace mimic her footing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, they really could have been something.  She didn’t really like that expression.  Because they already were something, they were friends.  She remembered the last time she heard someone use that phrase.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The nightmares had come frequently.  She didn’t want to wake Dominik, he had always been a sound sleeper, so there wasn’t much to worry about.  She had found herself awake panting and fearful that night.  She needed to… She slipped out of their bed quietly  and made her way down to the living room where her friend lay asleep on the couch.  The next morning she woke up to her husband smiling down at her curled up next to her communications officer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me,” he had said to her that night, “Were- Are you two a thing?  Are you something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would have laughed had she been in a better mood.  “I just- I needed to make sure he was alright.”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>They were something, they were friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Hearing that had brought her back to the time she really did try dancing ballet in zero gravity.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It had been Eiffel’s birthday and she was in the comms room.  The transmission that night had been something by Bach, she couldn’t remember what.  Doug had joked, he stood up and attempted to get into his crude attempt at third position.  She had laughed and tried to show him the right way.  They ended up laughing maniacally as they drifted around, odd attempts at pas de bourrées and somersaults in between.  It was the first time she hadn’t been afraid of failure.  She remembered how hard Hera laughed playfully at them as she played song after song.  She remembered how little she had cared.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I love him.  I love all of them, but it’s always been you.  You’re my soulmate,” she muttered, looking Dominik in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had heard the term ‘platonic soulmate’ many times before, but that night in the comms room was when she really understood it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled a little, watching Lovelace stumble.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>In another universe.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Here,” she reached out to steady Isabel.  “Now move your foot over here, and…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Renée?”  She hesitated.  “Did I… Ruin everything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,”  she looked down a little as she maneuvered herself in stiff, yet graceful motions.  “It was an observation.  And it wasn’t wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isabel moved behind her, attempting to imitate the motions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Renée’s pace quickened as the music sped up.  She stopped thinking.  She delved into a series of complicated spins and jumps.  Her arms moving almost as fast as her feet as she let go of everything.  Let go of thoughts of other universes, universes where she had Isabel, universes where she had Doug, universes where she and Dominik weren’t as happy, and universes where they were happier, and the universes where she had no one.  She prepared herself, gearing up for the pirouette.  Her leg swung up out of position as she went around once, twice, three times, and as many times as she could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isabel had stopped trying to keep up, she wasn’t quite sure she was even meant to.  This was Minkowski’s coping mechanism, she realized with a jolt.  This is the first time she’d been able to do this in years.  She watched, awestruck by how consumed in the dance Renée was.  She couldn’t help imagining what this would look like up on a stage, under a spotlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glanced over at Minkowski’s phone.  There was a message from Dominik, he’d be there to pick them up in ten minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isabel watched the dance come to an end along with the song.  Renée poured her heart and soul into it.  She gave it everything she had to the point where it hurt, and she’d never been happier.  That was the moment she realized it, they were home.  They were free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lovelace held up the phone as Minkowski stopped, catching her breath, and looking as though she were finally satisfied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dominik and Eiffel are waiting outside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Renée nodded in response, silently reaching for her bag as she walked with her friend to the car.  On the way, she was quiet, sitting happily beside her husband as Doug and Isabel bickered and giggled in the back seat.  She sat in the loving company of her soulmate, her platonic soulmate, and her would-be soulmate, letting the racing in her head slow down.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!</p><p>Instagram: whats_a_terrarium<br/>Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251<br/>Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium<br/>Twitter: whatsaterrarium</p><p>If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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